lost in love with you (it's a pretty thing)
by BerryliciousCheerio
Summary: Like, really, when does Lydia not top? (or: lydia gets sunburned and allison gets some)


**hi wow okay so apparently i write almost smut now. this started as fluff? and then ? these two losers couldn't keep their hands off of each other? help me?**

**kind of loosely operating within the realm of lydia resurrecting allison (like, y'all can read this as a stand alone or go and read **clean up the dead you leave behind **for some background, but the end result is the same)**

**probs gonna keep doing this until i start writing for another ship again**

**(sort of nsfw but theres no hardcore fucking or anything)**

**based on the tumblr prompt: ****the two of them going down to the beach and one getting sunburned really badly so the other slathers them with aloe gel when they get home**

**disclaimed**

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><p><strong>...<strong>

"Lydia, really—," Allison says, rifling through the hall closet in search of aloe gel. "You should know better."

From the living room couch, Lydia moans. And then groans. And then does both in a slightly higher pitch.

"I mean—six hours? No sunscreen?"

"I sometimes forget I'm this white, okay?"

"Lydia—."

"I just wanted to feel _alive_."

She's definitely a little tipsy, too. When Allison comes back out to the main room, she smirks at the sight of her girlfriend, face down on the couch, groaning. Her skin is just about as red as her hair.

"How much did you drink, baby?" Allison laughs, coming to sit on the edge of the couch.

"A beer," Lydia mumbles into the couch cushion. Allison raises her eyebrows. "Some tequila." She nods. Sounds more like it.

She rests her hand on the only unburned part of her girlfriend's back, right over the band of her bikini top. "We need to take this off."

Lydia tenses, but murmurs, "If you want me naked, you can just ask."

"I want you naked," Allison deadpans. The redhead squeaks out an _oh_, and Allison adds, "Do you really think you're up to sex right now?"

Lydia rolls to her side quickly, obviously trying her drunken hardest to be suave, but she groans through the movement and Allison winces for her. "I'm—," Lydia grits out, eyes squeezed shut as she breathes through the pain. "I'm always up for sex, Ally."

"Say that without wincing." She's being a little mean. But it's—she's finding it a little hard to not laugh when Lydia's trying to seduce her while looking something akin to a tomato.

Finally, Lydia sighs, sitting up gingerly and raising her arms, looking at Allison imploringly, hazel eyes wide. "Can you—?"

Her makeup is a little smudged from the couch, and Allison leans forward to kiss the smear of mascara on her cheek. "'Course."

Lydia nips at her ear, growls, "I'm going to take all the Advil in this house and then do you." And Allison can't hold back her laughter then, because Lydia sounds so determined, and also _do you_? She's pouting when Allison pulls back, but Lydia keeps her arms up dutifully.

Allison sobers quickly, and she tells her, "This is going to hurt so much and I am so sorry." And then, in a fluid movement, she grasps the bottom of her girlfriend's bandeau and yanks it up.

Lydia hisses, and Allison knows she's biting down on her tongue to keep from yelping—she pecks her lips sweetly. "I know, baby," she murmurs sympathetically when she pulls away. "But," she tacks on. "If _someone _would learn their limits then maybe _someone _wouldn't be in this situation."

Lydia grumbles something, eyes sliding closed, biting her lip, steeling herself, and wow, okay, Allison really didn't think this whole thing through because now Lydia is topless, full bottom lip sucked between teeth, and wow, when did the thermostat get so high? She takes a moment to take in her girlfriend, because she _can_, and Lydia cracks open an eye and smirks.

"You wanna do me," she sings, and tipsy!Lydia is kind of immature, which never fails to amuse Allison. She huffs a laugh and grasps Lydia's elbows, which seem like the safest place to hold really, and turns her so that her back is to Allison.

The aloe gel was abandoned on the coffee table, and Allison reaches for it now, squeezing a handful onto her palm. Lydia gathers her hair over her shoulder, and Allison leans forward to press a ghost of a kiss to her newly exposed nape. She rubs the gel onto both palms before pressing them against Lydia's hot skin experimentally. Lydia tenses, but after the initial hiss of pain, shock, she relaxes into her girlfriend's touch.

Allison massages the salve in, keeping her touch firm, gentle; she smiles proudly at Lydia's moans. She pays extra attention to Lydia's shoulders, possibly the reddest part of her body. Allison's going to need to talk to the rest of the pack about maybe not letting the redhead of the group sit out in the sun for hours without maybe suggesting some sunblock.

Lydia's head lolls forward, and Allison drags her hands down her back, to the dip in her waist, even though, practically speaking, she's not really burned there so there's no reason for it, except for Allison's want for Lydia's skin beneath her fingers. When Allison realizes that her fingers are no longer moving slickly along Lydia's skin, she pulls away, biting back a laugh at Lydia's whine.

It's sort of—

Lydia's never been shy with her love, but she's never as free with her dependency on Allison as she is when she's had a few. It's kind of gratifying to know that she wants Allison as much as Allison wants her.

"Ally," she keens, rocking a little. Allison takes that as her cue to hurry it the fuck up. Lydia's back is basically covered, so Allison nudges her hip. "Let me get your front," she says as innocently as she can, because she's not sure if she can keep it together if—

"I'll let you get me," Lydia seduces, looking over her shoulder through heavily lidded bedroom eyes.

"Lyds, you look like a tomato."

This does not deter her.

"I'm going to fuck you against every flat surface in this house."

Wow, okay. Allison tries not to stutter when she says, "Maybe when you're not groaning every three seconds." She's obviously progressed from immature to really, really dirty, really, really quickly. 0 to 300. Allison's not protesting though.

She nudges her girlfriend's hip again, more insistently, suddenly very aware of the fact that she's still in her shorts, which, yeah, she should get her out of those soon. For totally health related reasons.

Yeah.

Health.

Lydia finally turns, pouting, and Allison has to train her eyes on her shoulders and _only _her shoulders. But her collarbone is so close to her shoulders, and the junction at the base of her throat draws the eyes down and she just—

aw, fuck it.

Allison surges forward to kiss Lydia then, hands on her white thighs and Lydia grins against her lips, deepening the kiss eagerly, bringing her own hands up to tangle in Allison's hair. Her waist isn't that burned, right? As Lydia eases her onto her back, Allison trails her hands up to her girlfriend's waist, over the soft curve of her hip, and tests the skin there carefully, resting her palms lightly at first. When Lydia doesn't let out a hiss or a groan or a curse, she figures it's safe.

Her breasts are pressed against Allison's chest, and god, okay, there are too many layers between them, but she'll deal with that later. When Lydia arches her back, Allison cups one of her breasts, rolling the nipple between steady fingers, and Lydia bites down on her lip _hard_, and this is one of her top five sex scenarios because Lydia is brutal when she's had something to drink and sometimes Allison wants brutal, wants fingers curving sharply and teeth, wants bruises in the shape of splayed fingers.

Reminds her that she's alive, that she has skin to bruise.

She moves her attention to Lydia's neck, her pulse point—six years together and Allison knows that the quickest way to get Lydia to unravel is _hickeys_, especially there. Lydia opens her legs to straddle Allison, rolling her hips when she sucks hard at her neck—

"God, _Allison_," and she sounds wrecked, breath short. Allison kind of wants her out of her shorts but kind of doesn't want her to move, and the struggle is so real. So fucking real.

The dilemma solves itself when Lydia tries to find purchase over Allison's head and discovers that she can't—their couch's arms are low, the perfect height for napping, not for fucking.

"Bed?" Allison breathes, and Lydia's pupils are blown when she looks back to her, lips swollen and pink. There's a lip gloss smear up from her lip, to the right, and Allison nearly reaches out to wipe it away, but then Lydia is nodding and scrambling off of her, yanking Allison up from the couch.

She drops her hand in the hallway, and Allison would protest, but Lydia's wiggling out of her shorts, so she has the good sense to stay fucking quiet and starts undressing as well, kicking her shorts off down the hall. She keeps her panties on—

Lydia's made it clear that she really fucking likes to take them off herself, and Allison isn't one to deny her anything, _especially_ if anything involves Lydia Martin dragging her underwear off with her _teeth_.

She's standing in the hallway, frozen at the thought, and Lydia reappears from the bedroom, impatience written all over her burned face. "Come _on_," she groans, pulling Allison to her roughly. Her hands slide up Allison's sides, fingertips digging into the curve of her waist. "I'm not in pain yet, but I will be again soon, so let's do this."

Allison grins. "I'll do you."

Lydia's obviously sobering up, because she grimaces and mutters, "You'll never let me live that down."

Allison cups her face, gentle in her reverence. "'Course not."

Making a face, Lydia leans up to kiss her hard, parting her lips with her tongue, which is great—kissing Lydia is always great, but Allison is aching and about two seconds away from backing Lydia against the nearest wall and—

Lydia trails a hand down from her chest to her stomach, to her scar, pressing her palm flat to the skin there. "You're very brave," Lydia mumbles between kisses. "So brave."

"You too," Allison promises. "You're brave too."

"Not like you." Lydia's voice is small, reverent, spreading her fingers wide to catch the edges of the scar.

This is—

this used to happen a lot, right _after_, when Lydia's hands still shook most nights. It hasn't for a while, her hands have been steady, and Allison struggles to find the right words, especially when Lydia starts to trail hot, open mouthed kisses down her neck.

But—

uh.

She should say something about this.

Allison leans down and recaptures Lydia's lips, laces her fingers through hers. Lydia's palms have raised score marks and Allison knows that they ache some days, that her wrists ache still, and some days it hits her _she did this for me_.

"You bled for me, Lydia," she says seriously, squeezing her fingers, crowding her against the wall. "You're so much braver than I could ever be."

Lydia stares up at her, eyes dark beneath her lashes, and finally she surges up again, leaning up on her toes to press her lips to Allison's. It's hot and dirty, open mouthed, and Allison feels more than hears Lydia say, "Enough retrospection."

She ducks her head suddenly, takes Allison's breast in her mouth, rolling her nipple with her tongue. Allison goes a little boneless, the ache between her legs intense and hot, and Lydia kisses her way up her chest, licking a hot stripe up the valley between Allison's breasts, which, _okay_—

she presses Lydia back, hands greedy, mapping out the familiar curves of her body. Lydia hisses, leaning back with her muscles tense. Allison suddenly remembers how they got into this.

"Oh, shit, Lydia," she backs up, watching with guilt and concern as color floods back to the five fingerprints Allison left on Lydia's side. The redhead whines, and Allison's not sure if it's from the fact that she's literally _so _sunburned right now or from Allison not touching her anymore.

The latter is confirmed when Lydia follows her, twining their fingers together and peppering Allison's collarbone with kisses. "M'fine," she murmurs against her skin. "I'm topping, though."

Allison snorts—

like, really, when does Lydia not top?

**...**

Lydia whimpers at the over stimulation, and Allison pulls away, pressing a gentle kiss to the inside of her white thigh, to her collarbone as she slides up the bed to lay next to her love. Allison wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, wipes her hand on the edge of the bed. Lydia shoots her a look and she rolls her eyes, promising, "I'm doing laundry tonight."

Her girlfriend nods, wincing as she rolls onto her side. "I think we worked all the aloe off of my back," Lydia murmurs sleepily, grinning and cuddling close to Allison.

Allison works through the drowsiness that nips at her heels—

"You're not hurting, though?"

Lydia shifts again, frowning a little but making no other indications of pain. "Not right now."

"Then," Allison grins, rolling to her side and slinging her arm over Lydia's waist. "I think we should nap."

"Allison," Lydia mumbles happily. "I think you might be the genius in this relationship."

**...**

(lydia wakes up groaning about the beach.

allison only laughs a little)


End file.
